


Like a nightmare

by Warrior_Princess



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst and Feels, Brian Banner's A+ Parenting, Fear, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Hurt Tony Stark, It Gets Better, Loki helps, Pain, Panic, Past Child Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Secrets, Torture, debriefing, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 09:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5000290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warrior_Princess/pseuds/Warrior_Princess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Avengers ended a debriefing they are held hostage by a magical creature that has the ability to get into their heads and show the memories to the others. Tony always had kept a cruel secret that now comes to light. And of all people, it's Loki that helps him afterwards. </p><p>This takes place after the Avengers and does ignore Iron Man 3, Thor 2, Captain America and Age of Ultron completely. Here the Avengers found out, that Loki was forced to work for the Chitauri and he was acquitted and allowed to live on earth. From time to time he helps , apart from that he has a life of his own. The Avengers live in the renovated building, formerly known as Stark Tower.<br/>I tend to believe that every hero has a back-story where something went really, really wrong. I wrote some stories about the Avengers focusing on things that happened to them, were done to them or they did and how it influenced who they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Debriefing

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGERWARNING  
> Sexual abuse of a child. Graphic.  
> Mentions of a suicide attempt.  
> Torture  
> Please don't read this, if it might trigger you! Please take care. I really mean it.
> 
> (The name Mareritt is the Norwegian word for 'nightmare'. Thought the word would fit as name very well. The legend doesn't exist, it is totally made up by me.)

The debriefing was boring and as Fury had left the room the Avengers stayed seated and talked when a lean silhouette appeared in a cloud of purple-grey mist. At the same moment something coiled itself round every Avenger and the chair they sat in. They were trapped. They could move their heads but nothing more, they couldn't get up. When the mist vanished a tall man with red curly hair stood in front of them, grinning broadly.

"Good afternoon, Avengers! My name is Mareritt. Thor here might know me."

 

"That's just a myth. The legend says there's a creature with that name, which lives of fear and pain. He has the ability to look into someone's mind and show his memories to him or to others around, forcing them to live through them and feasting on the pain and fear that inflicts. But I thought it was a fairy tale."

 

"Oh, I'm real, you will see. Perhaps showing will be more effective than talking with you, because I’m hungry. And people, called heroes by others, always have painful secrets, it’s the same on every world, every realm.

Let's take a look at your dear Captain, he is your leader, isn't he? So it's just appropriate to start with him." He looked at him, thoughtfully raised an eyebrow and stated: "How boring, mostly scenes of war. That I have seen a million times before. And you were an ailing child, that's equally boring. There's disappointingly little fear and pain in your life that is more than ordinary. There's just one thing that looks interesting. Take a look my little Avengers." He grinned and an image appeared over the big conference table. Like a film. But out of Steve's eyes. They all saw what he saw, felt what he felt, it was like they traveled back in time and were forced inside his body without the possibility to interact or intervene. They could just watch and feel.

The train, the snowy winter landscape and the cold wind that tugged at his clothing. The skin of his face hurt because of the cold. And there was Bucky. Bucky and the feeling of safety, of friendship, of trust. Followed by the horror when he saw him fall down into the abyss, unable to catch him. He stretched out his hand but he couldn’t grab Bucky’s hand and he fell. For seconds that felt like hours. Steve had to watch, his arm still outstretched. He saw that familiar face disappear into the darkness. He felt the overwhelming helplessness and sadness without time to let it be. The need to break down in this train wagon and cry and scream but there was no time. There was a mission and the pain had to wait and didn't that hurt even more?

 

Steve grimaced. It hurt to see it again. To have to share his feelings, his memories with the other Avengers without being asked. It was Tony who decided to at least try something.

 

"Hey, sorcerer's apprentice, leave him alone! Get out of his mind. It's not nice to force others in someone's mind, you know? The last guy that tried something just approximately like that, ended as imprint on my floor. You really want to avoid that, believe me."

 

He was answered with a laugh. "Oh, perhaps you feel more comfortable in your own head?" He stared at Tony for a long time, making them all nervous, then he started to grin like a maniac. "Who would have thought that? Your mind is far more interesting. You suffered a lot. You're too clever for your own good and remember too much too vividly, aren't you? That is going to be enjoyable."

Tony's face was angry, furious and he tried to get out of his damn chair with all force he could muster, but without success. "Hands off my mind, you sicko! That's no amusement park for the psycho of the week."

A hearty laughter interrupted him: "Oh, your big mouth still brings you trouble, Stark. Always did, it seems. But what a sweet child you were."

 

An image appeared, a hallway and a man that looked a little bit like Tony stood in front of him, Steve recognized Howard Stark a little bit faster than the others. The child had to raise his eyes to see his father's face that looked down on him in anger, he was small.

"But I was right!" The hand in front of him hit his face. Hard.

"You worthless brat! Who do you think you are? I am your father and you'll do what I tell you."

"But I was right and you were wrong!"

"You will never say something like that again, Anthony! Never question me. And. Shut. Up!" The next hit sent the boy crashing against the wall. Then he was roughly pulled up again by his arm and another hit made the boy cry out in pain. He was weeping now, cold and wet tears on his face while he tried to raise his hands in an unsuccessful attempt to defend himself. His father was yelling now. "You're a stupid, useless waste of space! I wished you were never born, that would save me a lot of time and nerves. You're not worth anything." Howard slapped him again and the child fell to the ground and stayed there.

 

The grown-up Tony was enraged and shouted: "I'm still not good with the whole shut up thing, asshole. Now get out of my head, take your magic knick-knacks and go back to Storybrooke. Nobody gets hurt, you stay alive and everything's fine. Deal?"

 

"You still don't know when you have no chance, do you? Thought you learned that as a child."

 

And another image appeared. The feeling that came with it was more than fear, it was panic. A lot of panic. And they soon discovered why. "Howard." Steve whispered surprised and Tony's face lost every color. He knew exactly what memory that was. How could he not. He had tried to forget but it was impossible.

Howard pressed his hand at Tony's throat and pinned him down on a bed. That wasn't a child's room, it had to be Howard's and Maria's bedroom. "You'll do what I tell you to! And shut up, I don't want to hear you. Do you understand me? It's your choice. You can keep on going to boarding school during the week but you will spend your weekends here and do what I tell you to. Otherwise I'll take you out of that school and you go to school here. You'll spend all your time here with me and I will teach you to listen to me! So, what do you want? Seven or two days a week? Will you now shut up or shall I call the school on Monday, telling them you stay at home?" Howard lifted his hand from the boy's throat so he could speak.

"Two. I'll be good. I will do as you say, please..." That was the high voice of a child. Soft and small and scared to death. How old could he be? Perhaps 7?

"Fine. Now shut up and ..."

 

"Stop!" Tony's voice was high pitched and his eyes were wide, his face showing unmistakably signs of panic. The villain actually stopped and the image vanished. "Don't. Whatever you want I can help you with it. Just don't... please. What do you want?" That was sheer desperation. None of the people around him had ever heard something like that in his voice before. Even Natasha looked worried.

"Your fear is delicious. How much more will there be at the source? You're a brave hero now, you weren't back then. Oh, I'm sure, I will love this."

"Please, don't do that. You can take pleasure from viewing Afghanistan, how often you'd like to, there was more than enough fear and pain, but please not that. Obadiah ripped out my heart, more or less literally. Choose something. Please. Whatever you want, please don't use this things. Don't. Please!" He knew he was begging and he felt pathetic for doing so, but he would be willing to do everything to prevent that anybody would see these memories.

"Whatever you want, you can get from me, just, just don't use this against me. Please."

The creature laughed and the image reappeared. Tony yelled "No! No." then his head fell down on his chest.

 

"Now shut up and hold still." Howard roughly pulled the kid's shirt over his head and stripped him of trousers and underwear. The boy shivered and felt cold, so surprisingly cold, despite the afternoon sun that shone through the window. Fear made his breathing fast.

"Turn on your stomach." Tony complied and they all could feel how hard he fought against the wish to cry and scream. Fear. Overwhelming. Then there were two hands on his back, his butt, stroking down to his legs. Harsh touches. Without any further warning something that must be a finger was forced inside of the boy. The pain made him gasp. "You want to be a good boy, don't you? So hold still and be quiet. It's not like this is the first time. Don't be pathetic." Hurt.

A while later two hands pulled him down beside the bed, bent his upper body over the mattress. One big hand holding him in place. He didn't move, didn't try to get away. He was too scared and knew too well, what it would bring him. Then there was pain. Burning. It hurt and the boy whimpered. Too much pain and even more overwhelming fear to form a clear thought, everything felt unreal. Movements and pain. Everything became blurred. Silent tears.

When something wet and sticky dripped down his thighs the child was released and slumped down on the floor. Unmoving. He stared down at his hands laying on naked knees and he just tried to breathe. A small, cold body, huddled on the floor. Numb.

They all felt the desperation and hopelessness, like a hole in the chest. It was a sick twist of life that he would later really have a hole in his chest with the arcreactor in it.

 

"Who would have thought that you would be the one hiding the most still burning pain? I had guessed one of the two agents. But no, it's the one with the biggest smile. Delicious. Let's look at another memory, shall we?" Everybody in the room said no, some screamed, some with a steady voice and one so low it was barely audible. "Oh, that was a rhetorical question, Avengers. You will look as long as I wish you to. You're empathy for him makes this even better." He laughed. "Old and new pain and fear. The room is full of it. I love it. So perhaps we should go to the day where this started, should we? Seems you were five years old." Tony opened his mouth to protest but the words won't come out. There was just speechless pain inside of him.

 

"You can sleep in our bed tonight, like an adult, while Maria is on vacation." That was joy, which the boy felt. But it disappeared when the image changed to a dim room. The blanket was pulled away from him. When Tony looked up, Howard pressed his index finger on the child's lips. "Ssssh." Then he pulled down his own pajama pants and his son's, too. Confusion and creeping fear. Something was wrong. But he couldn't speak, couldn't protest, his body frozen in fear. When Howard touched himself with his right hand and Tony with his left while he lay beside him, Steve started to cry. To see his old friend do something so horrible to his own child and feel Tony's fear was too much.

When Howard was done, he pulled up his pants and Tony's, turned to the other side and fell asleep fast while the boy stared at the shadows at the ceiling. A feeling of emptiness. Numb and scared.

 

"Wasn't that nice? And there is so much more. I think I like your father." He laughed. Tony flinched. He stared at his hands. Watched his hands trembling like they weren't his. He felt nauseous and dizzy. Like he was going to lose his consciousness.

"Shut up, bastard! Stop hassling him! Stop it." Clint was furious. Natasha added: "You will not get away with that. We fought more evil creatures than you, you will die."

Bruce tried to stay calm, the Hulk could unintentionally hurt his friends in that small room. Steve still shed silent tears and Thor obviously tried to get Mjölnir. Without success. "So much empathy, really Avengers, I take immense pleasure in all of this. But perhaps we should watch a little more."

Tony winced like he was hit. But he still didn't talk. He couldn't any more.

 

Tony was sitting on a chair at a work table, his feet dangling in the air. Small hands worked with tools and components the other Avengers don't recognize. He was so concentrated on it, that he didn't hear his father until he spoke up behind him. "Come with me."

"No. I want to end this."

He had spoken without thinking, just wanting to complete what he was building. His father grabbed his hair, pulling his head back violently and spoke directly into his ear. "You better go into that bedroom or I'll do to your little friend, the son of the maid, what is meant for you. And then I'd fire his mother. You like him, don't you? I saw you play with him."

Tony's eyes widened. He was so scared but he knew he couldn't let that happen so he slipped to the front edge of the chair to get off of it and then walked in the direction his father told him to. It felt cold and numb and terrifying.

Howard closed the door and turned to the kid. "Undress." The boy didn't move but they could hear his breathing getting faster, felt the pain in his chest, he was so frightened. "Undress. You know the consequences if not." After this the kid did what he was told. His hands, they could see getting off his clothes, were slightly trembling.

"Lay down." The child get on the bed, laid down and looked up at Howard and at a white ceiling. Fright. Howard's gaze wandered slowly over the body in front of him, then he grinned and touched him. Tony didn't move, frozen in fear. Trying not to feel this hands everywhere on his small body. It felt like an eternity.

"Turn over." They all could feel that the boy's terror was growing but he did as he was told, there was nothing else to do without making it worse. The kid laid his hands down near his head in a nearly surrendering position. There were this big hands again, demanding and rough, touching everything they want. Then these hands were on his butt, spreading his cheeks. The child clenched his hands into fists. Fear. Steve and Bruce closed their eyes. It helped not seeing the boy staring strained at the pillows at his left. But it didn't help against the pain or against hearing the whimper he made. A weight pressing down on him. The disgusting feeling of flesh on and in his own. Panic. Pain. Desperation. Shame. And everything started to feel unreal again. Like a nightmare. Numbness. Fear. The young Tony whimpered quietly. "Shut up." There was a hand again pulling back Tony's hair sadistically to force him to lift his head. The boy stayed completely quiet after this, his eyes tightly closed.

 

"Tony, breathe." Bruce's voice was soft and the grown-up Tony lifted his head. He had closed his eyes without noticing it. He was hyperventilating and trembling. "Inhale. Exhale. Deep, slow breaths. This was long ago. It's over and it will never happen again. He's dead. And I would kill him if he wasn't." There was a tint of green on his skin before he gained his composure back and his voice was soft again. "Tony, this is just an image. You're safe. You're grown up. Breathe. Inhale. Exhale." And it helped. Tony started to breath slower and his heartbeat slowed down, too.

"Hey bastard! You, you will die for this." He forced out between clenched teeth. The reply was laughter. And Tony felt like he would crumble to dust right now and there. "It took a toll on you, I'm almost surprised you tried to kill yourself just once. You were 16, hm? Little bit halfhearted. Painkillers and sleeping pills with a bottle of vodka you drank too fast. So you just vomited and cried and slept for two days. Nobody even noticed, isn't that sad? Nobody. You're a lonely one. Would anybody notice it today? Or care about? Not even your own mother cared."

 

Another image and none of them was sure that they could take any more. But it didn't stop.

That was an office. Howard sat at a huge desk. "Undress." And the child did like he was told.

While the young Tony slowly and fearfully got out of his clothes Howard stood up and pushed his trousers and underwear down to his ankles before he sat down again. "Come here." He waved at the naked boy. Fear. Slow steps towards the man on the chair. A rough hand that caught his wrist and pulled him closer. Even standing he was smaller than the sitting man. A large hand gripped his hip. The hand on his wrist pulling the little hand where Howard wanted it to be. And then a noise. The door opened and a woman stood there, her hand still on the door knob. This must be Tony's mother. She looked at her half naked husband and her scared naked son. She looked directly at Tony's face. There was a spark of hope in the boy, they all could feel it, but it died a second later when she turned, left the room and closed the door behind her. Desperation flooded like water through the boy. Something inside of him broke. Drowning. Fear. Hurt. Desperation. He was alone. There was no way out of this nightmare.

"Please tell me she came back. Or did at least something to help you." It was Clint's voice. Sounding ill.

Tony couldn't answer but the creature did it grinning. "No. She gave him gifts and apart from that stayed away from him. Nobody came. So much fear and pain followed and nobody came and saved him. Never. Why should they. Not worth the effort. All this went on for years. Tell me, did you become accustomed to the pain? No? You never will. You..."

 

Then there was a green and golden light and Loki stood before them, looked at his surroundings and shoot without hesitation at the grinning creature, bringing it down with a scream. At that moment they could move again and get out of their chairs, weapons pointed at the lying creature.


	2. In the workshop

And in all the chaos Tony slowly moved to the door and was gone before they noticed it. He ran to the elevator and through the underground parking space and drove off as fast as possible. "Jarvis? Delete the footage that was recorded by the surveillance cameras. Delete every trace of it from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s servers. Did they see what happened?"

"Not really. They saw this being appear in the room, saw that there was talk and distress on everybody's faces. But the images you saw weren't visible."

"That's at least something."

As soon as he arrived at Avenger's tower he sprinted into his workshop. "Complete lockdown, protocol foxtrot charlie nine fifty-four unicorn eight alpha seven. All override codes are deactivated. Nobody enters without my spoken permission."

The windows went dark, the door locked, the vents were closed and additional security features were initiated.

Tony sat down and sighed. "S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't have microphones in debriefing rooms, but you still listened to the comms, haven't you, Jarv?"

"Yes, Sir. I am sorry."

"This wasn't meant to ever see the light of day. And I freaked out like a child in a room full of earth's mightiest heroes. And an alien, don't want to forget Thor." He hold his head in his hands. "I will have to change my name and move to another country. Arctic perhaps? Even the Captain wouldn't want to search for me there. Too much ice for his liking. I can't look in their faces. This was disgusting."

"Sir, there are various phone calls from the other Avengers."

"Tell them I am on vacation and will move to Greenland."

"Sir."

"Tell them they shouldn't call again. I will not answer. Tell them I'm fine and that you take care of me. And that they will never see me again. They can stay in the tower, I will, I don't know, move."

"Sir -"

"No, Jarvis, just do what I said. Please."

"Yes, Sir."

 

Tony stared down to his feet. "All this memories now don't want to vanish again, can't get them out of my head." He didn't look up. "It stopped when I was 12. Seven years of my life. You and a therapist were the only ones alive that ever knew about, Jarvis. And I never shared much details. Never. Until today I was convinced nobody will ever find out. Especially not like that."

Before Jarvis could answer there was a noise behind Tony and as he turned he saw Loki materializing in his workshop. "I fucking hate magic! And it's strictly forbidden in here! With one exception, you teleporting away, which sounds like a brilliant idea. So, thanks for your visit, bye, bye."

"You know that five Avengers discuss about letting the Hulk or Natasha with a generous amount of C4 make a hole in your wall to get to you?"

"They shouldn't try, the walls are enforced and bomb proof. But tell them I'm fine and they should go back to their daily tasks. Bye, bye, beautiful!"

"I promised to stay with you at least until I'm sure you won't do something to yourself, so better get used to me, St..."

"Stop!" He was interrupted. "Don't you dare to call me that name now! Tony it is. And I'm not going to kill myself. I wasn't trough so fucking much crap in my life just to kill myself now. What have they told you?"

"That that creature I killed tortured you with your own memories. And showed them to the others. That your father..."

"Stop again! That's enough said, I was there. So you're another witness of my humiliation in that fucking S.H.I.E.L.D. room, I'm so happy."

"I don't asked for details, if you assume that, someone was in my head some time ago, I wouldn't like to participate in that and take advantage of."

"You already know too much. Nobody should ever know about that. It's not important."

"Yes, you hiding here screams that it's no problem for you."

"I'm human, sorry? I just need some time to put that nasty stuff back in his box in my mind and forget it. And move to Greenland."

"Are you aware that these people out there would really follow you to Greenland if it would help you?"

"I'm fine. I don't need help. They should be busy saving the world, I need no fucking babysitter."

"I'll stay."

"Have I told you lately how annoying you are?"

"Feel free to do so. But it's me or all the other Avengers and me that will be here with you."

"Ok, ok, I get it. Want a drink?"

"No. Are you sure you should be drinking now?"

"I'm sure my main problem is that I'm not already drunk." And he went to his bar in the back of his workshop and poured himself a drink. And after emptying the glass another one. With his third drink he sat down on the couch. "You want to stay, so you could as well sit down. Tell me about your day or something like that."

"Oh it was a rather peaceful day until Fury called to tell me they had a problem he called magical fuck."

Tony laughed. That sounded exactly like Fury.

"What do you fear when you unlock that door?"

Tony didn't even knew why he answered Loki's question. "That a room full of Avengers look at me like I am a disgusting, weak and broken thing."

"Why should they?"

"They saw me. It's not like I put up a fight with him."

"As a child against a grown up man twice your size and much stronger?"

"I should have tried."

Loki thought for a moment. "Try it now. I'm a god and stronger than you. Try it." And before Tony could protest Loki pinned his shoulders to the back of the couch with strong hands, carefully avoiding touching anything else but Tony's shoulders.

"That's not funny."

"It's not meant to be."

Tony struggled but he wasn't able to get up.

"And I might add, this is just more strength, I am not the one you depend on to have a home and food and everything else you need to stay alive. You even know, that it's unlikely that I would beat you up or strangle you to death. It's not like you had a choice."

"Ok, I got your point." And Loki lifted his hands. Tony kicked the god's chin, hard enough to get the message through. "Not funny, asshole!"

"You miss the only point that is important, Tony."

"Please enlighten me, what would that be?"

"You survived. That's all that matters."

Tony stayed silent for a few minutes. He knew that Loki was right with that point, he really knew it and at the same time it felt wrong.

 

"Out of curiosity, you don't know a spell that erases a precise memory out of, let's say five human's and two god's minds?"

"I'm afraid, there's no spell for that."

"Was worth a try."

"Loki, did someone ever did something to you, that made you feel so ashamed you would have done almost everything to keep it a secret?"

"I'm over 1000 years old, what do you think?"

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes."

"What did you do?"

"Everything I had to, to keep my secrets secret. But if you're not willing to kill the Avengers, that won't work."

"Shit."

"Indeed."

 

"Can I tell you something and you promise me, to never tell it anybody?"

"If you'd like to. Even I think, you had enough of your secrets spilled, so yes, I promise."

"I can't look them in the eyes again, because they know, that it was my decision. When he beat me, it hurt, yes. But surprisingly it hurt more that he called me worthless, useless, disappointing, dumb, foolish, that he never wanted me, that I should have never been born, whatever. It hurt more being called and treated like that than being... I was sent to boarding school with seven. And I was still seven years old when he let me decide if I would prefer to hold still and shut up while he... you know... or if I'd prefer to come home, seven days a week. Seven days of being treated like I'm totally worthless or two days of being treated as a whore. I chose the latter. Two days are less than seven days. Mathematics. But I also chose being called a good boy from time to time instead of being called worthless and getting beaten on a regular basis. He was rough, it hurt, it hurt a lot and sometimes I thought I would die because I was so scared of him. He beat me nevertheless when I talked back, but he mostly stopped calling me worthless and useless and all those other things.

I. Decided. To let him treat me like that. It was my decision, my weakness, my fault. That's what they saw. How should they ever respect me again? I can't face them. They would find me disgusting and weak. Now they found out. It will never be like before and it was my decision."

He threw the glass at the next wall where it broke into pieces, littering the floor. "Fuck! I wished my hands would stop trembling."

"You call that a decision? And all that as a child? You were a kid, you had no say in the matter, as much as you might wish for the contrary. To choose between the devil and the deep blue sea is no decision. So, if I'd kidnap a random mortal and torture him for, let's say, a year or two and then let him decide if I should keep on torturing him every day or if he'd prefer me to torment him two days a week, you would really call that a choice? In the end he will suffer anyway. But you say, he shouldn't try to minimize the pain that will come with this? Really?"

"That's something else entirely."

"How is that something else?"

"I don't know. Because I say so? I don't know. It's the way I feel about that. I accepted more than a decade ago that the memories will never just disappear. At one point I understood that I will never be free of this. That things and smells and life itself has the potential to remind me. To let me relive through parts of it. I know that.

I learned to love life again despite the constraints of the consequences of what happened. The nightmares, the intruding memories, the lurking pain inside.

Nobody knew and I could deal with it. It hurt, but I had found a way to live with that. But now that control is gone. This creature pulled my past into the light for everyone to see. And feel. I'm vulnerable now. Like I was as a child.

How shall I deal with that? I can't. I can't." He gaped. That was all a little bit too much. "Please excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom."

He more or less flee to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Then he sank down on the floor, his knees pulled to his chest, hiding his head under his hands.

 

"Tony?" Loki's voice outside of the door was soft.

"Jarvis, tell him, I'm fine. I'm doing nothing wrong, I just need some fucking space to breathe. Alone." It wasn't more than a whisper. And he really tried to breathe. Against the pain in his chest. Remembering that six breaths per minute should help to get someone's pulse back to normal, so slow breaths, he could do that. If he forces himself to concentrate on breathing instead of the memories he couldn't get out of his head. Instead of the pain he felt everywhere. He wasn't injured, but everything hurt. He could see himself as a child, scared and helpless. Too terrified to fight anymore. Failing to struggle against what he did to him. Enduring what happened because he knew no way out. Holding still in silence like he was told to, horrified of the thought of the consequences if not. _Breathe. I can do that. It's simple. Just breathe. Ok, not so simple but I can do that. Did it my entire life. Breathe in. Breathe out._

Not simple. He couldn't breathe. He gasped for air. He was completely exhausted and he couldn`t breathe properly. After a few minutes Loki appeared inside of the bathroom. "You have to breathe slower or you'll lose consciousness. Breathe in, breathe out, in and out." His voice was soft and he knelt down beside Tony while he was trying to calm him down.

Without looking up Tony started to talk, more to himself than to Loki. Partly in shock, partly drunken, partly hurt immeasurable.

"Somehow you get used to it. As fucked up as that sounds. But as a child you find a way to cope with it, to get you from one day to the other. To survive. Because what else could you do? Minimizing the damage.

I mostly suppressed it. Never thought about yesterday or tomorrow. And something inside of me was merciful enough to numb a lot of what happened while it happened. I was able to get up and dress me again but I didn't feel it most of the time. It was so far away. Except the feeling of cold. I often could blind out the pain, the shame but never the cold. And the desperation. That's something I never got rid of. When I have nightmares I still feel it. A black hole without any hope. So overwhelming that I just can't move or breathe anymore. I can't even describe how much that hurts.

I think I was six when I had an imaginary friend for a day. Yes, a day. I talked to her because nobody else would have listened. A young woman. Like the mother I wished for but didn't had. She was soft and caring and I didn't feel so alone. But it just didn't work because the genius I am, I knew it wasn't real and wouldn't help for the long haul. So, I just gave me one day. It would have just made it harder to accept that nobody around me was like her. That there was nobody that would save me. That I was alone. That it wouldn't stop and nobody was willing to just take care of me. Wow, that sounds pathetic."  
"I would say it sounds surprisingly honest." And Loki asked himself why he was more impressed than surprised about that. "You were alone. You needed someone. As long as it worked, even if just for a day, it's fine. Don't apologize for what you did to survive.

But you grew older and it doesn't worked anymore. Coping by ignoring it, I mean. What did you do? I'm not forcing you to answer but I'm willing to listen to you if you want."

Tony sighed. "While I was a teenager I just felt pain. I refused to look at it, so I worked like a maniac. And I drank. A lot. Tried some other things, too. I was a self-destructive kid, mostly surrounded by adults and people who hated me for being a child prodigy and rich. I was surrounded by ignorance and hate and I only wanted to stab a knife to my heart and get out of it. I was torn between pushing everybody away because I couldn't trust anybody and needing someone. The pushing part won. I found ways to cope with it again. Unhealthy ones but it worked for me. Kept me alive. Self-destructive but alive. Until I reached a point where even that wouldn't work anymore, where nothing did and I made plans to die. I didn't want to end up alive but mutilated and disabled. A lot of plans. I had more than a dozen plans how to do it. I didn't want to improvise something like that, but did it nevertheless when I was 16. Wasn't a very successful try. It was just a night I spend at home and I couldn't take it anymore. And yes, nobody noticed. I vomited pills and alcohol, cowering on the bathroom floor and passing out there. When I woke up again, dizzy and ill, I dragged myself to bed. Slept a delirious sleep. Two days later I was healthy enough to destroy every evidence.

At MIT it was mostly Rhodey who kept me alive, without him knowing it. He didn't knew why I was so desperate but he tried to be there for me. One very drunken night he more or less kept me prisoner. He grabbed my wrist and wouldn't let me go. Not even violence could convince him to let me go. I don't know why he felt the need to do so but he discomfit my plans for that night. And I screamed at him why he did that. Because all I felt was desperation and pain and it seemed to me that death would be the only thing that could save me from that. And it hurt so much. I asked him why he couldn't just let me go. Never saw him so sad. Told me, that I knew fucking well. I still feel guilty for that.

A few years later, in my 20s I realized that I needed either professional help or would die. I decided, that I could at least try it. I survived all that, I could give me another chance to keep doing that, couldn't I? So I saw a therapist for five years and if you tell that to anyone I'll make you regret it! But it helped. Didn't talked about the details but about how to deal with it today and I found a way. She diagnosed me with chronic PTSD. There's a significant neurological impact of trauma to the brain. I still take pills to compensate that it alters brain chemistry. I will never just forget it and live my life. I will always live with restrictions, I will always experience pain. But there are the good days, the good things in my life. Even a few people who care about me. And it feels like a lot of that broke today. Like I lost that fight."

"You didn't. You haven't changed today. You're still here. And it will get better."

"I couldn't stop my head thinking about it. Memories dancing around in my mind. Like a mosquito, flying around someone's head."

"Perhaps it would help to speak about it? Isn't that what this world has found to be helpful?"

"Sometimes, yes. But it's ugly and you already listened to me whining."  
"It's not whining. And I will listen if you want to."

There was silence. But then Tony started to talk again with a soft voice. "Sometimes he came into my room in the night. I froze when I heard his footsteps outside the door and forced myself to lay still, keeping my eyes closed, not moving. It didn't stop him. But made it a little bit easier. That way I didn't have to see him. He pulled the blanket away and my pants. He... He touched me, treated my body like I was a doll he could play with. Like I was his property. Something he can use as he wish. His creation. Nothing more. He did some other things but as long as I was pretending to be asleep he would just use his fingers, not... So it was a little bit better than what he would do during the day.

He touched himself, too. I hated it. Everything of it. With closed eyes there was just darkness. I didn't have to see him, that was fine, but I also didn't see what would come next.

But I knew he would go when he was done, so all I had to do was to endure it, to breathe until he would go. I thought the whole time that he will go away. Eventually he will go. He will go.

At first I cried when he finally let me be and left, but later I just lay there in the darkness, hopeless and desperate because nobody would ever stop all of this. There was no way out. Sorry! I don't know, why I'm telling you that. I'm sorry. Please forget it. I'm an idiot. Sorry. I..." Then he doubled over. Too much pain. It hurt and it was still so hard to breathe. Abdominal pain. It hurt even if he knew that it was his mind, not his body that caused this pain. But it was just too real. When it got better he straightened himself and leaned his head at the wall.

His eyes were so sad and haunted that Loki could hardly bear it. And he had no idea what to do or why he even cared. Then something so strange happened that it took Tony a felt eternity to figure it out. Loki that still knelt beside him put his arms around him, pulling him cautiously closer until he hugged Tony. Somehow it felt so soothing, so much like the first good thing on that day that he let himself be held by the god. He didn't even recognize that he had started to cry until he felt that Loki's shirt got wet where his face lay on his shoulder. "Oh fuck! I'm sorry." He pushed Loki carefully away from him.

"Stop apologizing. There's no reason to. Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong. And this, all of this that happened today, it will come to an end. It will get better again."

"Once he had, he had, he had hurt me more than usual." The word usual under this circumstances made Loki flinch. Nothing like that should be usual. Especially not for a child.

"He gave me a pill. It made me feel dizzy. I couldn't stand on my feet anymore. Sat down on my bed. Turned out he had called a doctor. Everything became blurred. The last thing I saw was that he gave the man with the white gown a bundle of money. I couldn't stay awake any longer. I fell asleep. No idea what he gave me or what happened afterwards. But at the moment I would really like that pill again. Unconsciousness sounds good."

Loki hesitated. "I could make you sleep a dreamless sleep. It's a spell. You could get some rest."

"You could do that?"

"Indeed. But there's a condition."  
"What would that be?"

"You'll take a shower first and dress in clean clothes. You were in a fight even before this happened and you're still covered in sweat and dust. And your skin is ice-cold. You need some warmth. So you'll take a warm shower and I'll let you sleep."

Now Tony was hesitating. Undressing sounded not desirable at the moment, but Loki was right. He was cold. So he nodded.

"Well, then I'll teleport you to your room, you get some clothes and take a shower. Meanwhile I'll tell the Avengers that you're alright. I'm sure Jarvis can keep your room as safe as this workshop."

"And I will." Jarvis added emphatically.

 

And Tony took that shower, anxious to not touch himself more than necessary because he couldn't stand it at the moment. His body didn't feel like his body. Everything felt distant and he was just so tired. He got dressed in sweatpants and an ACDC shirt and climbed into his bed. Loki appeared out of nowhere. He looked asking at Tony who nodded again. He was worn out and sleep sounded like heaven. Loki murmured something in a language Tony never heard before and it felt like something was wrapped around him like a soft and featherweight blanket.

Before he closed his eyes and fell asleep Tony looked up at Loki and said with a low voice: "He died in a car crash. And I still hope, that he suffered. That every second was an eternity and he had time to be scared to death. Felt it when the metal squashed his body and felt when his bones broke and the blood flowed out of him. That his nerves screamed in pain the whole time. That fear made him tremble. I hope he suffered."

"I hope so, too. "Loki whispered.

When he was sure, that Tony was sleeping, Loki leaned himself against the wall. He was tired.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Jarvis?"

"Thank you very much for taking care of him."

"You are welcome."


	3. Waking up

When he woke up again, Loki was sitting on a chair beside the bed, reading. Tony yawned, took a quick look around and froze when he saw him. "You're here."

"Properly observed."

"That wasn't just a nightmare then, was it?"

"I'm afraid it wasn't. How are you?"

"Better, I suppose. Sleeping was actually helpful.”

There was a long silence. “But..." his voice trailed off. ”I still don't know what to do with the Avengers now. Looks like this part of my life is over. I liked it. But it seems it didn't last long."

"You're a moron."

"Thank you very much?"

"It's not over. They really like you. They care for you despite your tendency to piss them off, like you would phrase it. They will not just watch you hiding from them forever. There's a point where all compassionate patience ends."

"And then? Hunt me down and drag me kicking and screaming to a debate?"

"That might actually happen."

"Fuck!"

Then there was silence and Tony thought about pretending to go back to sleep to get Loki out of his room.

"Forget it." Loki's voice was serious. "I don't know what you're thinking about, but whatever it might be, I will not leave before you talk with them."

 

_Not going to happen._ "Can you take me into my workshop without anyone noticing?"

"I can but I don't think it's a good idea."

"Just do it for fucks sake."

"I'm neither one of your servants nor an elevator." That was a sore spot. Loki was angry. He had enough of people that took use of his abilities without even noticing.

"Sorry. That's not what I meant. Please help me to get back into my workshop. I'll go crazy if I'm imprisoned in my bedroom."

"There's a door. You can leave whenever you wish."

"I'm not taking any risk of running into an Avenger. Please, Loki." His hands were slightly trembling and he pushed them into his pockets, hoping Loki didn't see it.

But Loki noticed. And he observed the undertone of desperation in the word please.

“Alright. Your workshop then.” That was all he said before he brought them both there.   
“Someday you’ll have to explain to me how this even works. It’s incredible.” Tony said, feeling slightly dizzy. Then he walked to the bar.

 

Tony took a glass and filled it with Whiskey. He looked at Loki. "Want one?"

"Why not."

They touched glasses and Tony started to work with some blueprints but wasn't very successful in concentrating for long. Loki sat on a chair nearby, the glass on a table beside him, watching the other man work.

"How long will you keep babysitting?"

"Want to get rid of me?"

"I'm thankful for you being here yesterday. I really appreciate it." Loki nodded and Tony continued. "But I am an adult, I can take care of myself, that's what I did my whole life."

"You're in pain and as I am the only one able to look after you, even without you giving access to your whereabouts, I'll stay."

“I’m in pain nearly every day. Just the extent varies. So don’t worry.”

Loki didn’t answer.

 

"So, alcohol and work it is?"

Tony looked away from his blueprints again. "Is what?"

"Your way of coping."

"Yes, Freud. Or Jung or however they are all named. Problem with that? You can always leave." His voice became hostile.

"No. I'm just watching. You're good in trying to hide it. I'm sure, most people would buy that you're ok even now. Because they don't take time to look and see that enormous void of pain in your eyes and the wrinkles around them."

"What are you now? A psychologist or a poet?"

"Neither. But perhaps I am the closest thing to a friend you allow to be near you at the moment."

Tony stayed silent. Then he added, "Let me lick my wounds and give me a little time. I'll be fine and we can all forget about that clusterfuck."

He kept on working, keeping his hands busy. "Loki?"

"Yes?"

"Can you please go now? I promise to not kill myself or whatever you want me to promise, but I want to be alone now!"

"I'm not sure how good that idea is."

"For fuck's sake!"

Loki stayed and Tony stopped every conversation with him.

 

Two days later Tony hadn't slept, he only napped from time to time on the couch. He worked and read and barely ate. He drank a lot.

Suddenly he looked up from his work. "I don't intent to spill more, you know."

"I'm not asking."

"Then what the hell do you want?"

"I'll leave whenever you feel ready to go back to your life and your friends. Your team is waiting. And they’d annoy me to death if I just leave you."

 

"You're a liar."

Loki actually looked confused. "Could you be a little bit more precise?"

"In my position, you wouldn't go out there, talk with them and go back to normal."

"But luckily this is about you, not me." He actually smiled about that. It made Tony angry.

"You never talked. If it would have been your past that was showcased for everyone to see, you would run and never come back. You would let go instead of getting back on the bridge."

Thor had told him that part on a night were he was drunken near unconsciousness with mead and it was the only thing Tony knew about Loki he could use to make the other man angry, to force him to leave.

Loki took a deep breath. That hurt. He understood the tactic but it hurt nevertheless. "It's not like you didn't try the same as far as I remember."

 

"So your family was shit.”

“It’s none of your business, but Odin was difficult. Being different was difficult. Nothing to talk about.”

“Tell me the worst you ever had to suffer?"

"There's nothing of interest I'd like to share. Now stop it."

"Two days ago while I was a mess, you understood. I saw that you knew at least a part. Felt it, not just understood it on an intellectual level. There was pain inside of you, too. You understood how it felt to be completely helpless, to get your freedom, your physical rights and your voice taken away. How it felt to barely survive in a world without safety and hope, how it felt to endure what can’t be bore without breaking. What was this about?"

"You're wrong."

"Liar. Tell me."

"No."

"At least you confessed with that no, that I'm right."

"No. Nobody did something comparable to that to me when I was a child."

 

Tony looked back on his blueprint. Loki settled back into a more comfortable position but then the man in front of him raised his head again. "Not as a child."

"What?" Loki didn’t want to understand.

"You didn't say never. You said nobody did that to you as a child. You told the truth and hid it at the same time. Not as a child, but as an adult."

"I'm a god. I am a grown-up man. I should be able to defend myself, don't you think?"

"Not under all circumstances."

"I'm a warrior and a god. I am not a victim."

"Because men like you can never be victims of anything or anyone?"

Loki nodded, his lips drawn together, undeniable signs of anger on his face.

"When I was in Afghanistan I was guarded by soldiers, sitting in an armored vehicle. They were armed, they were trained to fight, but they had no chance. They died one after one. They had no chance to be in control. I was abducted, tortured, forced. No matter what I did, I was a grown-up man but I wasn't able to defend myself. You can fight, but nobody, no warrior, no god, no man, just nobody can control what happens to them all the time. Life turns most of us into victims one way or another over time."

“Oh no, I won’t play that game. That’s the only warning you get, stop whatever you think you are doing or you’ll regret it.” His voice was low and cold but his face wasn’t as emotionless as he wanted it to be.

And Tony laughed. Laughed like he had heard the best joke ever. It took him some time to gain back his breath and say something. “Exactly what I said. You wouldn’t accept someone knowing your pain, not even one being. You, you hypocrite liar, you wouldn’t accept that anybody you know or care about knows about even some of your darkest hours.”


	4. Torture

Loki shook his head. "It doesn't matter. It's in the past. And I prefer it there."

“Don’t lie to me.”

“The truth is, I survived, and that’s everything that matters. And believe me, you don't want to hear about my secrets as much as I don't want to talk.”

“I asked you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, because you have no idea what you are asking for.” Loki was surprised by himself. He had managed to fight against his fury, against the wish to dismember the human because he didn’t stop asking. Didn’t mean he wasn’t oh so tempted. “I picked up the shattered pieces of my life more than once. I'm not weak, I'm not defenseless. I don't need your sympathy nor your disgust.”

“So you think you have shameful secrets nobody wants to know or help with? That you’ll be blamed and looked down at?” He grinned sadly at the irony and acquaintance he felt.

Loki didn’t answer.

“Is that the reason why you stay away from Thor that much?”

“No, that’s because he’s an oath.” _That never even tried to understand me. Not even back when we were young and he should have been able to see with his own eyes how I felt._

“There’s more to that, isn’t it?”

“He’s already ashamed of me, that’s enough for my liking. I wouldn’t allow him more of that. Even if he claims so, he is not my brother and he knows it. He may fool himself but I won’t play that game.”

“You were adopted, what’s the problem?”

Loki’s body was shaking with laughter. “Adopted? That’s a nice way to phrase it.” He stopped himself and shut his mouth, pressing his lips together in a thin line.

“I would be dead if anybody on Asgard would know where they _adopted_ me. But at least they would understand why I never fit in, why they were right in treating me like a weak, strange and disgusting thing.” He laughed again. A bitter sound, hurting something deep inside of everybody who would listen. A laugh borne out of agony. Like a wound, so deep, it would never heal completely. Tony had heard that sound before. Just never from someone that looked so self-confident and strong.

Never from someone reminding him so much of himself.

 

“Forget it. I will not talk about that. But let me add one thing to that vain discussion.

Asgard is a world where violence is the rule rather than the exception. Violence in words and deeds. Where everything that is considered a weakness provokes an attack. It’s not a world of mercy or peace, and they tell you over and over again that you have to fight, no matter the costs.” _That you’re weak, too relying on tricks, too pathetic._ “That it’s better to die as an honored warrior than to surrender. Guess what? It doesn’t always work that way. Dying is easy. Staying alive is not. It comes with a price. A price that is so much higher than just losing your life. Surviving is so much harder than just dying. So, so much. It’s worth it, yes, but it will hurt forever.

 

And you learn that our bodies, no matter from what realm they originate, might be precious and powerful and strong. But more than that they are fragile. They are a weakness. Because even the body of a god can be broken, can be used to subjugate someone's mind. Pain breaks down every defense. Manipulation and violence do that. There are certain things you're so sure of that they will never happen to you. You don’t even think about it. Until they happen.”

Tony wasn’t sure if he should ask, if he would be allowed to ask. He could feel the tension of the god. “What was it that happened?”

"The Other and the Chitauri.” Loki moved so fast, that Tony didn’t find the time to react. The god grabbed him by the throat, pushing him against a wall and held him there for a moment, Tony’s feet dangling in the air. Then he let go and grabbed him as soon as he stood and hold him in place with two strong hands pressing Tony’s shoulders against the wall. “Everybody thinks it was just the fall through the void and the damage it did combined with mind control that forced me to help them and I'm fine with that explanation. But it is a lie. An enormous lie I will never correct. And you won't correct it either!"

Tony just nodded.

 

"They didn’t aim a scepter at my chest, told me what to do and I did. It was far more hostile. When I let go and fell into the void, I was willing to, I wanted to die. Everything was forlorn and I just wanted it to end. The void was cold and dark and I thought it would rip me apart. I passed out.

I woke up to a face I didn't know. Later I learned it was the Other, commander of the Chitauri. He took my head in his hands and I couldn't move, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't move or speak or use magic against him. I couldn’t even scream. He rummaged around in my head. When he found out who I am and what I'm capable of, he decided that I could be helpful. But he didn't want an ally, he wanted someone who wouldn't question an order. Later, after New York, I found out, that I was nevertheless lucky. His own master was impatient to get hold of the Tesseract, so he didn’t have enough time to completely destroy and rebuilt me over years as a willing slave. He simply didn’t have the time without losing his own head. As I would have to use magic to do as he wish, it was risky. He had almost a year, but not more. I didn’t knew that. But he knew he would just have enough time to beat enough terror into me to get me to obey him and also treat me as well as possible as long as I did as he wished. Carrot and stick. In combination with his grip on me through the scepter, it should work.

 

He let the Chitauri throw me into a cell. A smell of blood, sweat and metal. Hard to forget. In a corner was a cage made out of broad metal bars. But they just threw me to the ground. I couldn’t get up anyway. I was injured and the room I was in, every piece of furniture, every tool I could see from the ground, literally everything seemed to be built with just one purpose – torture. And I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t even get up.

 

A few hours later the Other and two Chitauri entered the room. I wanted to know what it was that he sought from me but he didn’t answer. He ordered the Chitauri to strip me from my armor and clothing, when I fought back I got knocked out. I woke up to blood dripping from my head and a grinning Other. My hands were in chains. I was unclothed apart from a collar they had locked around my neck that somehow bound my magic, I couldn’t reach for it no matter what I tried.

It got worse from then on. A lot worse.” Loki’s face was distorted in pain, his eyes had stopped to focus on Tony as soon as he mentioned the Other. He was staring at the wall beside Tony’s head. He had no idea why he told that to the human. Why he spoke for the first time, breaking the silence that guarded him against the world. But he didn’t find it in himself to stop either.

 

“One day he grabbed me by the throat and crashed me down on the ground. The force of the impact nearly knocked me out. My head was spinning. He spread my arms and legs and I laid there like a bare bizarre cross. I tried to get up and he snarled, "You better stay down. You're not allowed to move until I tell you otherwise."

I tried to get up nevertheless but he pushed me down with a hand on my throat. I wasn't strong enough to withstand.” _Weak._ “I was hurting, I hadn't enough power left and without magic I wasn't much of an opponent. I struggled like a child getting hold down by someone stronger and bigger. Someone crushing my body.” That was a sensation they both knew and Tony felt how hard it was to hear that, to know that, to feel that, how much strength Loki needed to talk.

“He just laughed and without any further warning rammed a knife into my left hand, pinning me to the surface. I screamed in pain, trying to get up even harder. Trying to hit him or to pull the knife out and use it against him. The Other just laughed. I struggled, he didn't hesitate to do the same with another knife and my right hand. He pinned me to the ground like a piece of paper to a desk. Then he let go of me and said. "Hold still, or I'll make you. You stay there like I want you to or I'll make this so much worse." I writhed in pain, I moved and he crouched down, one hand on each of my legs, bruising. I just screamed and he didn't care the least. "You lay still or I'll break your legs so you won't move them for a long time. Now shut up. I can help you with that, too."

Perhaps I should have still fought back but restrained to the ground like that I didn’t see how I could. I would just make it worse. So I obeyed. I fought against the pain as much as I fought against the wish to move. He got up and leaned himself against the nearest wall, watching me without another word. He stared down at me in absolute silence for I don't know how long.

When he finally pulled the knifes out he healed the wounds in my hands. I was brought into another room to sleep. All cozy and fine. For a few hours.

 

Getting me on the ground like that was something he seemed to enjoy immensely because he always did it himself and so very often. He didn’t use a knife again to pin me down, but he punished me with a lot of fantasy for every move, every flinch. Stood there and stared down at me without speaking a single word. Silently towering over my body. I wasn’t allowed to move or speak. It was like training an animal and I was the creature that should be brought to submission.

 

It worked. After some time, I stopped fighting back. Just got down on the ground when he ordered me to and lay there like a corpse. Forcing myself to breathe, to bear the pain, to ignore the shame, to ignore the cold of the floor in my back and the heat in the room, to ignore hurting muscles. Ignoring myself with so much supreme effort that I wasn't always sure if I haven't already stopped to exist. Like a light was turned off. Not sure if this was indeed my body, if I still belonged into it, if I still had anything to say about what would happen to it. Numb. Like I could watch myself like a ghost. Like I already died and all that horror happened to someone else.

As long as I stayed still, they stopped inflicting more pain upon me. It was embarrassing to see that as a small mercy. Embarrassing to be willing to humiliate myself so much for moments of painless peace.

 

He stole my dignity, my hope, my safety, everything.

He healed my wounds, gave me food and new clothes, let me bath. Just to throw me into a cage a little bit later. Or worse.

It was completely unpredictable what would happen next and it was driving me insane.

 

I couldn’t get away and nobody would come for me. There was nobody who would have cared. Literally nobody. I was alone, abandoned, physically no longer able to fend for myself, I was caught in that never ending nightmare and there was no way out.

 

Is this the kind of thing, you wanted to hear?" Loki slammed his hand against the wall, leaving an imprint in a material that shouldn't be able to bend.

"Yes! Because at the moment I want to know that I'm not the only freak that went through hell at some point of his life. And I know it's selfish and cruel, and I'm sorry, but yes, I wanted to hear that.

And perhaps you should use the chance to talk about it because holy fuck, that sounds horrifying. It sounds like someone should really listen to you and tell you that you’re not batshit crazy but found a way out of there. How much strength it must have cost you to get back on your feet. Not because of me but because something like that will eat you from the inside out if you try to suppress it for the rest of your life.”


	5. Revelations

"No." It was a simple statement and Loki raised his hands in a gesture that made clear, that this no wouldn't change now. "You want to know, that you're not the only, how did you call it? Not the only freak. I'll arrange a meeting with a few of them. And isn't it nice, that they are already waiting?"

"You can't..."

"I can. I will."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Absolutely."

"If you do this, you owe me something."

Loki didn't answer. He just grabbed Tony’s arm and they both appeared in the living room where the Avengers had gathered.

 

"How are you?" Bruce's face was calm and asking and Tony didn't knew what to do with that.

"What have you told Fury?"

"Nothing. Just that he was showing each of us our worst memories. We haven't told him, that we all saw mostly yours or what it was. It`s none of his business." Bruce answered.  
"Thank you. So no S.H.I.E.L.D. files about... all that?"

"No. They don't know anything and they won`t get to know anything."

"Thanks."

There was silence until Bruce sighed and took his glasses down, scratching his forehead. Then he said cautiously. "But we can`t pretend it didn`t happen."  
"Oh yes, we can."

"We can`t and you know it." He pushed his glasses back up on his nose. "That happened to you because you tried to guard Steve from getting hurt. If you wouldn't have intervened he might have never chosen you. He did because you always try to help your friends. You spared us pain but at your expense. You're a good man and I often think, that you don't know that."

“Oh, I know I’m brilliant.” Tony was grinning but nobody was believing it.

 

"You remember when I told you, that I'm always angry. I never told anybody why. It's not because of the experiment gone wrong, this anger is so much older."

"You don't have to do that now." Tony's voice was soft but in the silence it seemed loud.

 

"I know. But I want to.

 

My father, he was an alcoholic. An angry, violent one. First he ignored me completely and even tried to keep my mom away from me. Left me in the care of a nurse as often as possible. One Christmas, I think I was four, I woke up soon and ran to the tree to open my present. The present from my mom. It was a metal toy construction set, a building set. Various beams that could be assembled with nuts and bolts and completed with pulleys, gears and wheels. It was easy. I was sitting there in my loved orange pajamas with the embroidered little bunny head on my chest and played. It might have been a complicated construct I built but I had so much fun. Until my father woke up. When he found me, he screamed that he was right the whole time. That nobody of my age would be able to do that. Nobody normal. That I'm a freak, a monster, something evil that shouldn't exist. That I'm something different. Something inhuman. He beat me. I cried and struggled and he just didn't stop. When mom came to help me, he hit her as well. Without her, he might have just killed me that morning.

 

After that, he never really stopped again. Yelling at her and at me, hitting us, telling me how much he hated me, how much of a freak and failure I am. A monster that shouldn't walk the earth and even less live in his house. I felt so guilty that mom had to suffer because of me. There were a lot of tears and bruises. Until mom couldn't take it any longer and packed our suitcases. He caught us at the car before we could leave. Started to fight her. I screamed he should let her go. I promised to be good if he would just let her go. He threw her to the ground, smashed her head at the pavement. There was the sickening sound of something breaking when her head hid the sidewalk. She didn't move. Just the blood red puddle around her head grew bigger. I ran to her, sat down beside her on the sidewalk and stared into her eyes. Talked to her. Whimpered her name. She didn't react. She was dead. He had killed her. Because of me. I don't know how long it took, but finally the bleeding from her head wound stopped. She lay in that lake of red that had dyed her hair, unmoving, her eyes frozen. He pulled me up by my arm, shook me violently until I looked into his face. He yelled. Threatened. Told me, it was my fault. That I would go to hell if I testify against him.”  
Bruce was breathing fitfully, fighting hard to force himself to relax. Natasha had clutched his hand tightly. She leaned closer to him, talking reassuringly and soft to him until he calmed down again. Nobody dared to speak.

“I lied to the court. Told them it was an accident and that she tripped and fell. The judge finally believed me when I said that mom wanted to run away for no reason, that my father did nothing wrong. They let him go. Lack of evidence. Because I lied in court.

Nevertheless they arrested him later. He got drunk as he did so often and bragged that he had beaten the law. That he had forced me to lie. He was imprisoned and later placed in a mental institution. I was left in the care of Aunt Susan.

He stayed there for 15 years, then they let him go, believing he was reformed. On the anniversary of mom's death we met at her grave and we fought. It started with words and ended with him beating me and leaving. Later in that night he was killed by muggers. The anger about him, about the unfairness, about my helplessness, never left me completely, not even after his death.”

Bruce took a deep breath. “I can't speak for the others but you saved me from seeing and feeling all of this again by fighting him. I'm thankful. And I'm so incredibly sorry, that all of that happened to you."

 

Clint came a few steps closer, touched Tony's shoulder and whispered with a soft voice. "You know we would let him pay for what he did to you if he would still be alive? We can't. I'm sorry, because I would really like to do that for you."

 

Steve was pale and silent. Then it just exploded out of him. "Why didn't you say anything? All this times I pressured you to tell me about Howard's life, every time I told you that I don't understand why you act so cold when it comes to Howard, every time I called him my friend, why didn't you tell me anything?"

Clint rolled his eyes and Bruce sighed. Natasha gave him a glare and started to answer. She didn't came further than his name, then Tony interrupted her. "No, let him." He looked at Steve. "Like you would have believed me. I would have never told you that. This is not a history lesson you missed, it's my fucking life. You had no right to know that. I wasn't obliged to talk to you. You once knew a man that unfortunately became my father later. Doesn't mean you are entitled to my story with him. I didn’t owe you that.” When Steve opened his mouth for an answer Tony added: "Oh, and you didn't tell us about your homoerotic feelings for Mr. Handsome Barnes, either."

"My what?"

"What I felt, or better phrased, what you felt, when he fell from that train didn't feel exactly just like friendshippy feelings. But that's not my business."

"I'm not!" Steve raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Ok, I get it. The not my business part, I mean."

“All you need to know is, that I didn’t let it destroy me. At some point as an adult I accepted the pain because what else could I do? Doesn’t mean I would tell anybody. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t give a lot to make it go away. But it will stay with me, no matter how much I hate that fact, it became a part of my identity. It has changed forever who I am and how I live my life. How I appreciate and fight for the good things. Also this will be the last time we are talking about that shit. Do you all get that?”


	6. Promise me

Tony was relieved when they all nodded. They changed the topic to Avengers’ business in a clumsy attempt to pretend everything was fine but they all knew it would take some time for them all to sort this out.

 

When Tony went back to his rooms Loki followed him. Half out of habit, half out of concern. The man turned around suddenly and looked at him. "I told you, if you do that, you owe me."

"I didn't agree."

"You accepted the offer by teleporting me into the living room. Now you owe me."

“What are you? A toddler?” Loki wasn't sure what to do with that. He was tired and exhausted. Not in the mood for this. "What do you want, child?"

"The rest of your story. What happened while you were the Other's prisoner?"

“Still want to find the freak that is more damaged than you?” He managed a smile.

“No. But perhaps I also owe you something. These memories you carry with you, perhaps you feel less like a freak when you share them.”

Loki was so much faster than Tony. He stood in front of him before he even saw him move, then he closed his right hand around Tony’s throat, lifting him up with effortless strength. He hissed: “That’s enough!”

Answering was hard with a god angrily holding him up by his neck. “You’ll need both hands if you want to kill me. I have my experiences with this, believe me.”

The pale man let go like he had burned himself and Tony dropped unceremoniously to the ground. “I got told, what I’m saying is hurtful from time to time, but usually not literally to me.” He coughed out.

Loki shook his head over and over again. “I don’t understand you.”

“Get in line.”

"You're a strange human.” He looked startled for a moment and then composed himself. “I might nearly miss your annoying presence a little bit." Then he added: "Almost."

"So you're done with babysitting?"

"I promised to stay until you come out again and talk to them. You did. So we are both free to do as we please."

"Now that you're out of duty, do you want a drink?"

“Why not.”

It was more than one drink. Even more than just one bottle and finally they found themselves comfortably sitting in opposite corners of one of Tony’s big couches.

“I’m still convinced, that there’s more to that. I saw recognition in your face. Whatever you say to deny it.”

“Why is that important? I can as well die with every secret I own and it will change nothing and nobody.”

“But then, why not?”

 

"You're really eager to find something you can use against me." Loki put his glass onto the table.

"Because it's impossible that I don't want to stab you in the back?"

"Not impossible. But unlikely."

"That's not my intention, thank you very much."

"It might become your intention if you think I'm in your way."

"Were you always that mistrusting?"

"I learned soon enough that it is better for me." He raised an eyebrow and made a surprised little noise but regained his composition nearly instantly. "The things you told me. You want something to reassure you that you could hurt me as much as I could wound you. You want me to give you a weapon you could use against me."

"For fuck's sake, no. I just found out the last few days that you're not just an arrogant, annoying, unapproachable pain in the ass but actually a person.” _Perhaps I even started to see you as a friend._

“You want a weapon and you want me to give it to you.” He laughed. “I even understand that.”

“It’s more having a bad feeling. If I guess even slightly right, this will come back to haunt you sooner or later, no matter how much you try to suppress it. Your secret may become as destructive as whatever happened to you. You already tried to end your life once, I highly doubt you would not succeed a second time. Perhaps I just don’t want that to happen.” He sighed. “What happened to you?”

“Stop it. I have a word of advice for you. Don’t do that. I’m not willing to let you insult and humiliate me. Your fragile human body is breakable. And I won’t hesitate.

You imply I’m degraded and dishonored, spoiled. Stop it. I’m a god, not an abject failure.”

“When the hell did I call you that?”

“Why do you insist on accusing me?”

“I’m not accusing you. That’s you.”

“That couldn’t have happened to me, I’m a man. You were a child. You can be hardly blamed.”

“But you think you are to blame.”

It wasn’t a question and he didn’t receive an answer.

“If you could have stopped whatever happened to you, you would have. You couldn’t. So you did whatever you had to, in order to survive. That’s how everybody is wired. In the worst case, this one life you have is the only one you’ll ever have, so we do whatever it takes to survive.”

“You sound very convinced of that idea. As long as it isn’t about you. If what you imply would be true, it would mean you’re asking me to talk about something I’d do anything to keep anyone from knowing.”

“I know. There are some things I told you, I’d like to take back. I would give a lot to go back to that point in time when you didn’t know, when the others didn’t know. I can’t. There are still a lot of details I’ll take to my grave. I will never utter a word about. He was a sadistic psychopath and I don’t want that to be linked with me. I understand you. But my therapist, it was surprisingly nice to hear someone else say that he was a scumbag and I didn’t deserve what happened to me. That somebody knows and I didn’t have to carry it all alone. That somebody just accepted that without judging me. I can’t offer you medical confidentiality, just my own personal pledge of secrecy.” He took a sip. “Oh, and you still owe me.”

 

“If I’ll tell you, will you promise to do me a favor?”

Tony hesitated. A favor could be everything. “I will if I can.”

Loki thought about that and stared into his glass, watching the ice cubes slowly melt. He decided that this promise would have to be enough. “The Other, he forced me under his will. Constrained me to obey without questioning. Punished me until I forgot that this was so wrong, until his words were the only ones shaping my reality. Figuratively and more than once literally, he forced me into a position where I injured myself when I struggled, so finally, I held still.

Some things that happened, that they did to me, weren’t so new. Being disrespected, despised and degraded wasn’t new. Blunt physical violence wasn’t new. The extent was new. And other things were, too.”

 

His voice was devoid of every emotion. He talked slowly and soft. A steady flow of words, timed with his breathing while his eyes became distant.

 

 “There weren't just Chitauri. I saw other prisoners and other subordinates that worked for the Other. One day three men entered the cell I was confined to at that time. Large and muscular like Thor, with bald heads and flowing robes. There are more realms with more creatures than Asgard knows about. I don’t know who they were. I ignored them. I knew that it would likely make them angry but I didn’t care. Until two of them pulled me up from the ground where I was sitting. Nearly dislocated my arms. Shoved me face first against a wall so hard that my nose bled. I was terrified when I felt hands on my body. It's not like they had time to waste with getting me out of clothes, as I wasn't wearing any. An instant rush of fear and disgust, hard to describe. I screamed. I fought back. Or at least tried. They twisted my arms on my back so hard the bones nearly broke. One of them kicked me and I couldn't breathe. They beat me. I found myself on the floor until one pulled me up by my hair, then pushed me against the wall again. Two of them holding me in place. I stopped resisting so they would at least end trying to break my body even more. Perhaps that was wrong. I shouldn’t have. Asgard taught me my whole life that it’s better to win and if not, that it’s better to die than to surrender. I couldn’t get away and it was all that I wanted. The Other once said that they won’t kill me. Not even when I wish for it. That I’m condemned until I would convince him that I accept him as my god and will do as ordered without question.

I was strong. I was powerful. It didn’t matter. They were stronger and I was not. I still don’t know how I should have done better. Dying wasn’t an option they gave me. What should I have done?” His hands were trembling just a little bit.

“There was nothing you should or could have done. Nothing that would have made it less horrid. Sometimes all you can do is to keep breathing, to stay alive.”

 

He sighed before he continued. “They wore nothing under that robes. One of them laughed. I just froze. It hurt. Surprisingly much. Never thought about that. Because something like that don’t happen. Not to warriors and kings. Not to men.”

Tony smiled a sad smile. “You have no idea, Loki. It happens a lot. Always did. Just nobody talks about.”

“Pain outweighs pride. So, after a while, I begged, I pleaded that he stops. They didn't care. I screamed. One grabbed my throat and just said: `If you keep on screeching, you’ll regret it. If you want to cry, do it in silence.´”

There was a long stretched silence, only disturbed by the noise of booze getting poured into a glass. Finally, the Norse god continued. “After a seemingly endless time of this, the Other came and sent them away. I fell down as soon as they let go of me. He told me I could either get up now and wash myself or stay where I am until he would call them back. It was so hard to get up from the ground. Two guards escorted me through the corridors. When they closed that door behind me, I stood there, alone in a room, confined in a body that I didn’t have any control over anymore. In no way. Incarcerated in this body with no way out. Damaged. A powerless body that once was mine.

I was lethargic and numb but in pain. I could hardly move and every step made it worse. I cleaned myself. Washed away the blood and else. Nothing could wash away the feeling of disgust. I felt humiliated and worthless. Helpless and pathetic. That was everything that was left. I once was a king and now I was powerless. I was desperate. To an extent, I can’t even describe. I wasn’t able to force myself to stop trembling. Fell asleep on the floor. Not long after, I gave up completely. Or was it long’ I’m not sure. I’ve lost count of time. It was a never ending chain of pain and the Other’s voice and them. I dreamt of killing them. Of killing him. Of killing myself. And I asked myself if I deserved it. Deserved it for what I am.” _A monster._

With his most serious look Tony said, “Nobody deserves that. Nobody deserves something like that. Nobody. I’m sorry that happened to you. You didn’t deserve it.”

The sadness he saw in green eyes wasn’t so sure.

 

“I couldn’t muster fury anymore as it repeated over and over again. There was that deep, unending pit of desperation that drowned out everything else.

 

However, one day they forced me into a cage that was so small, that it wasn’t possible to stand up or lay down completely. I don't know how long I stayed there. I lay down as much as it was possible in the backmost corner, half slumped against the rear wall. Closed my eyes and tried to breathe, to just survive. At the same time I wasn’t sure why I even would want to survive. My hair was plastered with dried blood, I was naked and my body covered in bruises and wounds. It was hot. I can’t withstand heat very well but that’s a whole other story you won’t understand.

I didn’t look up when I heard the door open. I was so, so long past the point where I was sarcastic and grinned at them. There was no more fight left, no more strength I could rely on. Nothing but pain and despair. When the cage was opened and two strong hands pulled me out I didn’t move, didn’t fight back or even opened my eyes. It didn’t matter who it was that had entered this room, it would just mean more pain and I was too broken to react in any way.

He pushed me against the cage, pressing my upper body down and I groaned with pain. My voice was hoarse and gasping and I didn't recognize it as mine but I said: “Not again.”. However, I was answered with a laugh. I tried to keep my balance. My right leg hurt too much to support my weight. Bend over the cage it was just my left leg keeping me from falling to the ground, and the figure behind me, that pressed himself against my back. He just had to get rid of a part of his clothing, so he hold me down with his other hand and I was too weak to use that against him. This creature still laughed when he forced himself inside of my body. I cried out when a new wave of pain hit me. I whimpered, pleaded, I begged him to stop without success. The beast behind me groaned in lust. It wouldn’t take long and wasn’t it pathetic to think of that as a good thing?

This thing came with a shout that drowned out my whimpers for a moment. When he pulled out and took a step back I suddenly collapsed to the floor, too exhausted and wounded to hold myself up. I landed in something wet and wondered for a moment if it's blood or cum or both. Not that it mattered. I didn’t look up.

I flinched when I heard the man crouch down. Then I heard his voice hissing into my ear. "You can stay there on the ground, little prince. He'd send a few more visitors to you. They should be here soon. And they might like to have you where you are." He laughed and pressed his hand down on a cut on my shoulder. Made me squirm with pain. Then he got up again while I curled up on myself on the ground. I raised my head just enough to look up at the tall figure towering over me. Whispered between painful breaths. ‘Tell him, tell the Other, that I'll do what he wants. Whatever he wants. I'll give him whatever he seeks. Whatever he wants me to do, I’ll do it. I’ll do it.’ I meant it. I was willing to do whatever would be necessary. I said it before but this time they believed it. I don’t know why. That’s it.” Loki tried to sound casual but failed. Even he couldn’t hide the pain from his face. “That was it. That was the point when the Other was convinced of his success and everything stopped. The point when I turned into an ally for him. When I arrived at the S.H.I.E.L.D.-base nobody knew that beneath my armor, I had wounds that were hurting and healing, that I was sore and aching. That I was as much determined to get the Tesseract no matter the costs as I was devastated and damaged. But I would fulfill this role, I would succeed. I nearly collapsed there but in the end, I made it out, with the Tesseract, with Barton, alive. I was alive and I was in charge. More than I was in a long, long time. I would do this and either succeed to hopefully be free after or would die in the process. I didn’t care much which version it would be.”

He looked at Tony. “The promise I ask of you? While I tried to fulfill what I was sent to do, the Other threatened that if I fail and he and his master don’t get the Tesseract there will be nowhere where they will not find me. I will never forget his words: ‘You think you know pain? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain.’ So promise me one thing. If they ever manage to get me and if I won’t be able to do it myself, find me and kill me.”

“You mean, find me and save me.”  
“Both. Save me by killing me. I can’t go through something like that again. I can’t.” Loki raised his voice. “Promise me.”


End file.
